Noreen Kavanaugh, Irish Jet
by celticleopardess
Summary: Noreen Kavanaugh is an Irish immigrant living with her twelve sisters in NYC on the West Side and managing their grandpa, Doc's, store. Then Noreen meets Action, a member of the Jets...
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: WSS is awesome! So is Action! Yay!**

**Disclaimer: I own nada but el plot-o and Noreen.**

**For WSS Action-lovers and Irish people. Because I can. **

Noreen awoke on the floor of her small apartment in New York. She hated her habit of rolling out of bed at night. She checked the clock next to her bed. "Damn, why am I always waking up so early?" she was about to climb back into bed when she remembered that it was her job to open the store. She trudged past the twelve other beds to the closet and put on a green t-shirt and a blue skirt. She ruffled her hair and tied a green ribbon around it. She slid down the banister bare-footed and grabbed the keys off the counter. Slipping on her knee socks and sliding across the floor, she unlocked the door and turned over the Open/Closed sign, popping her feet into clogs. Next to the cash register was a picture of her dead grandfather, the only relative she ever had besides her sisters. He had opened the store, and quickly earned the fond nickname 'Doc', coined from kids whose problems he solved as kindly as a bartender, but not as alcoholically.

Business had been almost nonexistent lately, with about only one person coming in, but leaving when not seeing Doc. When Noreen and her twelve sisters had emigrated from Ireland to America to take over Doc's business, they had expected a land of such beauty and richness that the lakes would be made of honey and the streets paved with gold. The youngest children thought it was amazing, but Noreen and her two older sisters, Brigit and Alana, this was no paradise. The streets were dirty and crowded with gangs. They realized that they would have to work hard to make a living, and they were prepared for it. Brigit, the eldest, managed the store while Noreen worked in it. Alana went downtown on the subway to work at a kosher deli that paid good money. Mary, the fourth-oldest, managed the other eight little ones in the over-store apartment. Noreen was becoming used to picking up the latest issue of the Saturday Evening Post and reading the articles while she sat at the front desk all day and chewed gum or her lunch. This day, however, was different.

Just as soon as Noreen pulled out a comfortable stool, a group of boys came in and sat down or started playing pinball or darts. Noreen recognized them from their late-night prowls around the neighborhood. These were the Jets, the toughest street gang around—well, apparently they were still tied with the Sharks for that prize, even after they tried to reconcile their differences. Their leader, whose name Noreen didn't know, spoke.

"Hey, chickie. Where's Doc? We haven't seen him around lately."

"Doc died a few weeks ago." Noreen replied, her brogue inflecting her speech. Putting her magazine back in its rack, she continued. "I'm his granddaughter."

"Oh me stars and garters! She's a little leprechaun!" another Jet said, imitating Noreen's voice. The others laughed. Noreen blew a big bubble with her gum and rolled her eyes.

"So, you're his granddaughter?" the leader asked.

Noreen nodded. "One of thirteen."

"Dang! It's a regular country of them! Run away!" The 'leprechaun' Jet said.

"Shut your trap, A-Rab!" the leader said. "Do you know who we are?"

"You're the Jets, toughest street gang around. Though right now, you seem like the biggest jokers around."

"The only joker here is A-Rab. I'm Riff, and if you're willing, I have no problem getting serious."

"No thanks. I may be an immigrant, but I'm not an idiot. You gonna buy something or just stand there and heckle me?"

"Cream soda, sweetie." Riff said, tossing two bits onto the counter and whispered something to a guy who he called Ice. Noreen grabbed a bottle of soda and exchanged it for the quarter. "Say," Riff said after a gulp, "You got any Playboy magazines?"

"Nope." Noreen replied.

"Beer?"

"Nope."

"Boyfriend?"

"You got a girlfriend?"

"Uhhh..."

"Then yes."

"Name?"

"Noreen Kavanaugh."

"Queen-size bed?"

"Nice try. You wouldn't be able to fit one upstairs with thirteen other beds in there."

"Virginity?" Riff's face bore a mischievous look.

Noreen gave a long pause and looked downwards. "Why should I tell you?"

"Because."

"Don't want to talk about it."

"You sure?"

"Look, if you're done here, then why don't you get your sorry arses out!" Noreen yelled. Silence fell. There was a patter of two little feet on the stairs.

"Nory! Nory! Wus wong? I pwotect you!" three-year-old Kathleen said, waving a toy sword.

Noreen looked sweetly at her sister. "Kathy, why don't you go protect Mary from the bad pirates about to get her?" Kathleen nodded furiously, her newspaper sailor hat slipping down over her eyes. She ran up the stairs, her rag doll trailing behind her. Noreen turned to Riff, slipping a baseball bat out from under the counter and brandishing it with a vengeance. "Get. Out. Buggers."

"Okay, okay! Let's jet, Jets!" Riff replied, slowly backing out the door.

Noreen turned toward the wall as they left and began sobbing. She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned around.

"You okay?" a dark-haired Jet asked, sticking his hands in his pockets.

"Why aren't you out there with Riff-raff or whatever and his cronies?" Noreen began to lift the baseball bat.

"Just can't stand to see a chick cryin'. You sure you okay?"

"I'll be right as rain if you leave."

"Alright. See you around." The Jet walked out of the store, taking a last look over his shoulder before he turned the corner.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I am wholly and completely sorry for not updating. I've had a HUGE project to do for school and I simply did not have time. Thanks to my reviewers, even the guy who said I should update or die (at least that's what I inferred). I decided to correct the "If this is after the rumble, why is Riff still here?" mishap with a little bit of elaboration. On with the show!**

Noreen decided to find out a little more about the Jets. She asked around, and found that their original leader, also by the name of Riff, as well as the original leader of the Sharks, had been killed in a rumble a couple of months earlier. Riff's cousin, Leroy, had stolen his name and claimed leadership of the gang by way of threat. According to some of the people who knew Leroy well, he was always jealous of the influence Riff had over the Jets, and jumped at the chance to claim that for his own by attempting to become Riff's double. He had even started going out with Riff's old girlfriend, Graziella.

Every once in a while she would see a few Jets walking down the street. If they caught sight of her, they scurried into alleyways and behind trucks as if she were some sort of monster. It was understandable that after her obvious threat of violence, combined with what happened to the first Riff, really scared them. Noreen tried to be as complacent and unthreatening as possible in situations like these. Eventually, she found out that the Jet whom she had talked to at that first encounter was called Action.

"He used to be just like his name, fulla spunk, y'know?" a fruit vendor said. "After that Tony kid was murdered in June, he wasn't never the same. Maybe it had something to do with what that Maria girl said or did. Heard she was worked up somethin' awful about that kid's death. Anyway, now he's quiet and more sensitive—sorta like a bruised apple, y'know?"

After a while, the Jets started coming to the shop regularly. They no longer gave Noreen any more trouble than to fill their orders and collect the payment, until Anybodys followed them in one day.

"I told you guys already! I can defend myself with the best of 'em!" the petite tomboy shouted after Leroy on the way into Doc's. "There ain't no reason for you to be worried that I'm gonna get hurt! I ain't irresponsible! I can roll wit' you any day and come home fit as a fiddle!"

"I still think you're not ready to be a Jet!" Leroy argued. "First: we can't take any new members after that old fiasco back in June 'cause the fuzz'll think we're corruptin' 'em and breeding murderers. Second: your ma still says she needs ya around the house 'cause your sister moved to the Bronx. Third, and the biggest reason why ya can't be a Jet: you're a girl!"

"What's wrong with being a girl?" Noreen retorted, facing the wall as she cleaned shelves. The shop went silent.

"Nothing's wrong!" Leroy said. "I happen to like girls very much! I just like 'em in their place, at home—not running around with the fellas and gettin' black eyes right, left, and center."

Noreen turned around. "I, myself, wouldn't want to join a gang—in fact, I recommend against it. But if that's what she…"

"Anybodys," Anybodys filled in.

"…What Anybodys wants to do, then let her! She's small and sprightly and can dodge and block hits just as well—if not better than—a boy. I'd betcha she throws one mean punch, too!"

"Since when are you an authority on whether or not a girl is good enough to join a gang?" Leroy asked.

"Since last year, just before I came here. Ever heard of the Banshees?"

"Yeah. Irish gang. They have a branch over by that candle shop a coupla blocks away."

"Last year, if I hadn't quit, I would've been a member inDublin for about a year." Noreen went over to the pinball machine and collected the change.

"Well, that explains the outburst with that bat!" A-Rab chuckled. "The Banshees are masters with shillelaghs!"

"Why'd ya quit?" A Jet named Ice asked, popping a gumball in his mouth.

"That's my business, thank you very much." Noreen's face got red. The boys all looked at each other and started to leave, afraid of an outburst. Anybodys stayed behind a bit.

"Thanks for sticking up for me," she said. "You're a real friend. If y'ever want to talk, I'm three blocks south and the fifth house on your left. I owe ya one." She hugged Noreen over the counter, checked to see if anyone saw it, and sauntered away.

As Noreen watched Anybodys depart, she saw Action looking at her through the window. He quickly avoided her gaze and walked away, towards a playground nearby, head bowed as if in prayer.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: So I've started school again. Blah. I've had a big project to do as well. Here is the newest chapter in the life of our dear Noreen. This time the charming Sharks are coming into the store, led by Chino, who is depressed over what he did to Tony. You'll see why he is sad over that "Polack". And yes, I know that people speak a bit too eloquently in this. Noreen is well-educated, and the others have reasonably intelligent minds behind their rough exteriors.**

**Disclaimer: 3x(I only own Noreen and the plot) disclaimer. ALGEBRAAAAAA!

* * *

**

The next day a group of Hispanic guys came into the store. The black wristbands on their right arms showed an allegiance to some sort of group. One of them, of middle height and build, sat down at the counter and ordered a drink. He sipped it with a blank look on his face. The others sprawled over the shop, looking at magazines, playing darts, all with the same blank looks on their faces.

"Why so glum, lads?" Noreen inquired, trying to cheer them up.

"You are new here, no?" The one who ordered the drink asked. When Noreen nodded, he took another sip of his soda. "We are the Sharks. My name is Chino."

"Hello, Chino. What's with all the long faces?" Noreen said, attempting joviality and failing dismally.

Chino glanced at his friends. They nodded as though to say "Tell her, she won't do any harm". "Several months ago, I murdered a man. I murdered him because I was jealous and prejudiced against him. He had the girl I could never have, and he was a Jet to boot. After I murdered him, the girl hated me. She hated mostly everyone. We realized that our prejudice against the Jets was not our fault—it was the fault of all the people around us in Puerto Rico and how they spoke badly of Americans. We had wished to kill them—our old leader _did_ kill one, and was killed in return. We cannot 'cheer up', as you say it, until we have gotten up the courage to truly apologize to the Jets, and for them to apologize in return, for we know that they wished to kill us, too."

Noreen was astonished at this candid admission of a crime. Back when she was in the Banshees, she never would have admitted to anything she had done, which wasn't much compared to murdering someone, now that she thought about. Noreen took a deep breath and replied. "I used to be in a gang. Anger and jealousy were our fuel, our food. We lived and breathed because of them. A loss of anger would have destroyed the purpose of our gang entirely. I only joined it because I was an outsider—nobody paid attention to me, and I would have liked it if they had. The only person who cared was…well, it doesn't matter who it was. You probably think my petty reasons for doing what I did and joining the Banshees were nothing compared to your reasons for doing what you did. But we've all been through a lot, so I can sort of sympathize…"

"No, I understand completely," Chino interrupted, startling Noreen. "I joined the Sharks to belong, too. I just never thought it would come to this. None of us did." The other Sharks nodded. Chino turned back to Noreen. "I think that this talk has helped us all to understand everything better. Thank you. We may come back soon. "_Vamonos, Tiburones_!" The Sharks turned and left the store. Noreen watched them go silently, glad to have found sympathetic ears in the midst of a myriad of talking mouths.

* * *

After the shop had closed for the night and Noreen had eaten dinner, she sat around in the shop and played pinball. Suddenly, she heard a knock at the door. Some of the Jets were standing on the stoop, looking eager to come in. Noreen went to the door and opened it a little ways, jamming it with her foot. 

"Sorry, lads. We're closed for the night."

"But this here is important!" the Jet named Ice exclaimed.

"Try me," Noreen said. She wasn't exactly in the mood for a silly little excuse to come in and play darts, but she would hear them out, anyways.

"Well," A-Rab explained. "Action here has been estranged, ya' see."

"I'm afraid I don't quite see, A-Rab." She looked at Action, bedraggled and a bit scratched. He certainly _did_ look as if something was wrong.

"My father threw me out," Action said, an angry gleam in his eyes. "He's blaming me for his gamblin' debts and claimin' that he cannot support me no more."

"I can certainly see why he is 'estranged', as you put it," Noreen said. She wasn't about to take any guff from these three tonight. "But what I don't see is why you would come here to solve your problem."

"Action needs a place to stay, until his pop cools off a bit before his next fit," Ice elaborated. "None of us others can take him in, and we can't stick him with Anybodys because she'd probably try pushin' him into lettin' her join us and generally annoy him to death, so the only other place we could come was here. Doc would have let him stay. He let our pal Tony stay when _he _was in trouble, and I'm sure he'd let Action." Ice looked at her as if to say that this was their last hope—it certainly seemed like it was.

"Okay, all right. You've convinced me, gents," Noreen said, rolling her eyes and giving in. "But we've got no room upstairs, so you'll have to sleep in the basement." The misshapen Action's face brightened a little as she let him into the shop. He carried a small duffel, packed to the brim with what seemed like just junk.

"Thanks, Noreen. This means a lot to me. You don't know what Pop's like when he's on a drinkin' binge," Action said, shuddering. "Even all the Jets put together wouldn't be able to stand up to him…"

"Oh, I think I can guess what he's like," Noreen said, remembering a past mishap when she was in the Banshees. "Now get your duff _and_ your duffel down into that basement." Action walked down the small stairway and through the cramped door.

"Thanks, 'lass'," Ice said. "We owe you one. The last thing we need is for Action to get more depressed than he already is. See ya, kid." Ice and A-Rab loped away into the night.

After she got Action settled, it occurred to Noreen that her sisters didn't know about this, and would most likely be irate over another mouth to feed. Their resources were limited as it was. She'd just have to keep him a secret, and make him understand that he'd have to start pulling his own weight around here if he wanted to stay.

When Noreen passed the basement as she went to bed, Action stuck his head out and winked. Noreen winked right back. Despite his rough exterior, he was actually a really nice lad, she thought. She went to sleep dreaming of pinball machines, dollar bills, and a somehow faceless, yet highly romantic lad…

**A/N: And so it begins…R&R!**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: I'm trying to get back in the updating mode. So…yeah.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the stuff that all y'all know isn't mine. However, I own the plot and Noreen, so pfft to all you plagiarizers.**

Noreen purposely awoke early that morning. She quickly dressed and crept down to the basement. For some reason, Action was already up.

"Well," Noreen said, seeing Action pacing the floor. "You're certainly an early bird, aren't you?"

"Oh, good," Action said, seeing her. "You're up. Uh…do your sisters know I'm here?"

"Nope. Not a one. I came down early to ask you if you'd like to take on a job here. Earn a share of the profits. If my sisters _did_ find out that you were here, they'd be hopping mad. We're only just barely making ends meet as it is, and another mouth to feed isn't exactly good news." Noreen sat down on the old mattress lying on the floor and played with a lock of her wavy auburn hair.

"A job?" Action looked a bit surprised. "I dunno…gee…if I did, I'd never hear the end of it from the other fellas…"

"Well, you _have_ got a reputation to keep up," Noreen admitted, now playing with a button on her green jumper. "Still, if you expect me to feed you, you'd barely get more than a wee crumb. My sister Alana works at a deli downtown and that helps out a bit, but nobody comes into Doc's anymore and Brigit's worried that we might have to close down…"

"Close down?" Action turned around and looked at her. "Closing down Doc's is like…takin' the Red Cross off a bloody battlefield! We _need_ Doc's!"

"Don't get sore yet," Noreen said. "If we can get a few more customers in, maybe the possibility would disappear, but unless we get more business…" She trailed off, not even wanting to think about what could happen.

"Tell ya what," Action said, sitting down next to her. "I'll try and get some fellas to come in more often."

"If…?" Noreen asked. "An offer like that doesn't come without strings."

"All you have to do is let me stay here. Deal?" Action held out his hand, which Noreen promptly shook.

"Deal."

Only a few days later, many more people were coming into Doc's, and Noreen was actually working up a bit of a sweat after a full day of serving the customers. Each morning, Action would help set up and then leave before any of Noreen's sisters awoke. He'd come back when the Jets came on their now daily sojourn at the store, talk a bit with Noreen, then come back later when none of Noreen's sisters were watching and sneak into the basement.

Each evening, before Noreen went to bed, she and Brigit would go over expenses and profits, the latter of which had been climbing ever since Action and Noreen had made the deal. Brigit was more than happy.

"You're doing a splendid job, Nor. Maybe it just took a while for people to get used to Grandpa not being here anymore." Brigit would say after seeing all the money in the cash register. "It may just be time for me to let you handle this on your own. I'd been considering taking on that housekeeper job over by the wharf, and I might just be able to…"

Noreen would smile and nod, hug her sister and then sneak down to the basement to give Action some food, mostly leftovers of what the littlest sisters didn't want to eat. He seemed to be getting better, not as depressed or as much like the "bruised apple" he used to be, but every once in a while when Noreen was leaving the room, he'd remember how Maria looked walking away from the scene of Tony's murder, and he'd sober up again. The old Action never would have let his emotions show like that, especially in front of a chick, but something about that murder scene really shook him—he wasn't exactly sure what, but it changed him like nothing else ever had.

> > > > > > > > > > > > > > > >

Do chomhra's do chairdeas  
Ba mhian liom I gconai  
's oro gra mo chroi  
Scealta is amhrain  
Go haosta le sleibhte  
Cruaidh's croga le haois

Slan le na laethe a bhi seal go haerach  
Slan le na laethe bhi  
Slan leis an oiche  
A casadh orainn do'n chead uair  
Slan le na laethe bhi

Ag amharc ar an fharraige  
's an ghrian ar a'tsaile  
's oro gra mo chroi  
Scealta fa Bhalar  
'sna tri Mic Ua gCorra  
Oileain seanda mar fhis

Bi Liom a storin  
Samhradh go Geimhreadh  
Run mo mhile stor

Your protection and your friendship  
Were always desired,  
and my heart's great love  
Stories and songs  
Old as the mountains  
Strong and brave with age.

Goodbye to the days that were, turning so lightheartedly  
Goodbye to the days that were  
Goodbye to the night  
Turning on the first hour  
Goodbye to the days that were.

At the sight of the sea  
and the sun on the seashore  
and the great love of my heart  
were stories and Balar  
in three Mici Gorra  
Ancient islands like a vision

I had a sweetheart  
From summer up to winter  
My dearest love.

**A/N: the Gaelic and translation are actually a Clannad song from the eighties or nineties, but I thought it'd be a nice connection.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Woohoo! Another update! Yay!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the things in here except for the plot and Noreen's family and all that good stuff, yada, yada, yada.  
**

* * *

Saturday finally came around, the kind of wet and rainy Saturday where you can't think of anything to do. Noreen's sister Alana stayed home for the first time in days—partly because of the rain and partly because the deli she worked at was closed for the Sabbath. Alana was Noreen's closest confidante before the big move to America, but now she was out 24/7, working and shopping at the market and picking up odd jobs here and there. She regretted not spending enough time with her sister, and thought today would be a perfect time to do it. 

As Alana walked down the stairs, she thought she heard voices coming from the basement. Peering around the corner, she saw Noreen closing the basement door with a heaving sigh.

"Who was that, Reenie? I thought I heard voices." Alana sat down at the counter, her denim-clad legs knocking against the counter as she swiveled on her seat to face her sister.

Noreen was startled. "Wha? Voices? No…uh…that was just the radio. It's nice to sit in the basement and listen to it with just the light from above…" Nice save, close call, she thought to herself.

"No, it wasn't, Noreen. The radio was sold two days ago to help pay the rent on that bloody pinball machine over there. Who are you hiding in the basement?"

"Nobody, honest! By Our Lady Above, I swear it!" Noreen crossed her fingers behind her back and crossed herself—Father, Son, Holy Spirit—promising the Father that she would do some rosaries as penance for the lie in the Virgin's name.

Alana's mouth turned up at the corner. "Noreen Kelly Kavanaugh. Do you know that when you lie, you cross your legs? I do. And that's what you're doing right at this moment."

Noreen looked down at her legs, and, darn, if they weren't crossed.

"Are you hiding a BOY in that basement, Noreen Kelly Kavanaugh?" Alana said mischievously, getting up as if to go check for herself.

Noreen gave up. "Actually, sis, I am," she sighed.

Now it was Alana's turn to be startled. A boy in the basement? That wasn't the Noreen she knew.  
Noreen caught the look on her sister's face. "But it isn't like that," she explained. "The poor lad needed a place to stay while his father was actin' up! I swear it!" Noreen relaxed a bit as Alana's face became less suspicious.

"You didn't need to hide him, dear. You could've shown him to us…The money that's been pouring into the store would've made us able to…"

"But _he_ was the one who got all the people in here! Not me! If I hadn't asked him to pull his own weight and if he hadn't offered to get more customers in, we'd still be on the edge of selling the place!"

Action heard voices out in the diner. Who was Noreen arguing with? He peered through a crack in the wall behind the counter. The two looked an awful lot alike…he supposed it was one of her sisters. They were talking about…him? Why him? He put his ear to the crack and listened in.

"Well, why doesn't he come out so we can thank him? I'm sure the whole clan would…"

"Lonny, if Brigit knew she'd kick him out in a heartbeat. You know how touchy she is about the do-re-mi around here… I wouldn't want to risk her getting mad over another mouth to feed."

"Well, at least let me meet him. What's his name?"

"Action is what his buddies call him. But I think his real name is something long, Italian, and embarrassing." Noreen had a sixth sense about things like that, the things that people cover up.

"Action…you mean that crazy Jet? The one that everyone on the street says would beat the tar out of you soon as you said one word to him?"

"Well, why don't you say somethin' and see what happens?" Action said, leaning against the basement door, chewing on Doublemint and casually leafing through Sports Illustrated.

Alana walked slowly toward him, head down and eyes focused on his face. "Why? Why are you here? What did you do that could make my little sister lie to me? She's never said an untrue word to me before."

Action put down the magazine and looked up. "My pop's been beatin' on me, more so than usual. I needed a place where he wouldn't find me. Kathleen was afraid you and your sisters would get mad if I was just loafin' around without earning my keep, so she agreed to keep it a secret I was here if I brought in more customers." He looked at Noreen. "But it looks like I've out-stayed my welcome. I'll be gone before you can say 'go away'." He turned to go back into the basement.

Now, Alana may have been a tough person to have as an older sister, and she was a difficult boss, but her heart certainly wasn't made of stone. Noreen must really like this lad, she thought, if she's willing to lie to me about him to keep him safe. "Wait."

Action stopped on the stairs.

Alana sighed. "You can stay." She raised her index finger. "But, we'll need you to help out around the place a bit more, like putting things in the storeroom, emptying the change from the pinball machine…"

"I'll do it! As long as it keeps me away from my pop, I'll do it."

Noreen was grinning wider than the Mississippi River. Action smiled back.

Alana smiled, too. "But, I have to ask. What exactly is your real name?"

"I don't like it. It's long, Italian and embarrassing."

* * *

**A/N: Hooray! Sorry I took so long in updating. I've had this sitting on my computer since a year ago. R&R!**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: I am so, so, so sorry for leaving you guys hanging for so long. I kept intending to get back to the story but never got around to it. I'd offer you a sacrifice as an apology, but I'm reasonably sure that it's illegal so instead, I present to you… CHAPTER SIX!**

**DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything that didn't come out of my brain.**

Action kept his word and helped out more around the store in exchange for being able to sleep in the basement. It was not uncommon to see him carrying crates of clinking glass Coke bottles from the storeroom or painstakingly polishing the chrome-edged counters until they shone. He became an expert at hiding behind the counter or the pinball machine when Brigit came in to talk with Noreen about how the store was doing. When she was gone, he'd leap out into view again and keep on working. When Alana stopped by and admired his work ethic, he succinctly stated: "I'd do anything to keep from going back home to my pops. He doesn't notice when I'm gone and I annoy him when I'm there. And, besides, you ladies need the help."

One morning while Action was trying to pull a misfired dart out of the wall where it seemed to be permanently lodged, Leroy sauntered in with Graziella on his arm. "Two Cokes, kid," he said, slapping some coins down on the counter which Noreen sat behind, her nose buried in an Archie comic. She took the money and put it in the register, then grabbed the fizzy drinks and slid them along the counter to where the couple stood. While Leroy appeared proud and happy to be with such a lovely girl, Graziella looked perpetually on the verge of bawling her eyes out, her chin stiff as if she was trying to keep her lower lip from wiggling. She gripped the glass bottle as if holding on to it for dear life. Noreen's big mouth longed to ask what was wrong, but her equally big brain thought better of it. "Of course, she's still mourning Riff," Noreen thought. "The first love is always the hardest to get over: that's probably why she's still feelin' like cryin'." Noreen knew the wisdom of her last thought all too well. She immediately pushed it out of her mind and concentrated on whatever enormous dish Jughead was now digging into in her comic. At least, she was trying to, when a grunt and a groan, followed by a kind of cracking sound made her look over to where Action was working.

"Got it," he said, holding up the dart. "Or not," he added, when he realized that the dart's point was still lodged in the wall. "Jesus H. Christ, who jammed that thing into the wall so hard? Oh, sorry, Noreen. I'll do extra rosaries tonight for that…" He grinned.

"I think the good Lord will forgive you. Why don't you let the dart be for now and get some more Juicy Fruit from the storeroom? I think Kathleen and the other little imps have been coming in nights and clearing us out." Noreen smiled at Action as he went to get some more gum.

"Damn, lassie. How'd you whip him?" Leroy asked with a chuckle. When Graziella did not join in, he elbowed her hard in the side, producing from her a rather loud and unladylike guffaw.

" 'Taint whipped. Just polite. P'raps you should try it someday." Noreen finished her comic and picked up a copy of Vogue. "I've heard it does wonders for pimply skin."

Leroy and his zits bristled. "A real lady would take that back."

"Who said I was a lady? I'm just a simple Irish brat who thinks a man's rich if he's got room in his garden for roses as well as praties."

"I don't take no insults from nobody, especially a girl!" Leroy began to yell. Graziella shrank at the sound of his booming voice in her ear. "Apologize now, ya damn Mick!"

Noreen's brow furrowed. Her lips tightened. In a matter of seconds, she had grabbed her trusty baseball bat and held it under Leroy's chin. "Nobody calls me a Mick. Nobody. Now get your white trash arse out of here, Leroy. And I don't want to see you in here ever again."

Leroy did as he was told and turned on his heel to go out the door, and then realized he had almost forgotten something. Graziella, who had been staring with eyes like a child at Noreen since the altercation with Leroy began, was soon escorted roughly out the door with her gaze still latched on the lithe Irish girl.

Action reentered a few seconds after Leroy and Graziella had left. "What was all the screamin'? You okay?" He put down the box of gum and carefully approached the stiff-jawed Noreen. "Was he… fresh with ya?"

"Nonsense," replied Noreen, with a flashing smile and a bounce of her ponytail. "If he had, he'd be dead on the floor. Called me a Mick was all. I didn't like it, so I banished him."

Action had a concerned look on his face. "Nor, I don't think you know exactly what ya've done…" He began to stack Juicy Fruit on the shelves. "If Leroy don't like ya, the Jets don't like ya. And if you've banished him…"

Noreen began to register the ramifications of her actions. "Do you mean I've banished ALL the Jets? The whole lot?"

"Sorry, Noreen, but yeah, that's how Leroy saw it. And the Jets were a lot of the people who were comin' in here…"

Noreen was silent.

Action was silent.

A floorboard squeaked.

Noreen sighed.

"Well, Jesus H. Christ, Action, what'll we do now?"

**A/N: So? Hoped you liked it. Despite a heavy workload, I will try my very, very hardest to put out chapters more frequently. Please R&R, and I hope to write more soon!**


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: Once again, the seldom-seen update for Noreen's story! I'm so, so sorry again for being on such a long hiatus, but now that summer's here I'm going to try to pump out at least one or two more chapters for you all, and I'll try to make them as long as possible. So, without further ado, Chapter 7…**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything except the plot, Noreen, and Leroy (I'm pretty sure).**

"But Riff," A-Rab complained. "We've gotta keep going to Doc's! Where else can I find that soda pop I like?"

"Yeah! And Noreen's the only person who's ever let me buy girlie magazines before! How else am I gonna get 'em if we stop goin' to Doc's?" Snowboy moaned, shaking his stack of Playboys.

"She's an awful nice lady, Riff," Baby John said quietly. "She never treats me like a little kid. Maybe you should say you're sorry for callin' her a –"

"Sorry!?" Leroy cried out, a vein in his forehead pulsing. "I ain't sayin' sorry to no immigrant leprechaun chick! She oughta say sorry to me! And until she does, we ain't goin' back to Doc's. Ever!" Leroy was yelling now, as loud as he could, lunging first towards A-Rab, then Baby John, and finally at poor Graziela, who was curled up in the corner with Velma's arm around her shoulders. Leroy looked down at her, disgusted. "Women. They're all the same. A buncha overdramatic, easily offended dumb animals who're only good for cookin' and neckin'." He faked a punch just to see Graziela wince.

Every Jet was silent. Over the past few months, since Leroy's takeover of the Jets, they had all been much too afraid to overthrow him. They had seen how devastating violence actually was. Now that Action was helping out at Doc's so much, they barely saw him, and there was nobody to talk sense into Leroy when he got a crazy idea. Even Iceman, Riff's and now Leroy's right-hand man, who had always been there to say a word or two in favor of common sense, was quieter than usual, and didn't even neck with Velma anymore like he used to. Leroy had free rein. He could command as he wished. He could fight, love, think, or even kill if he wanted to, and nobody would stop him. They didn't want another of their number to die in a fight prompted by passion and hate.

"You guys aren't goin' back to Doc's till I say so, you hear?" Nobody moved, their eyes locked on Leroy. "Good. Thought you'd see it my way." He shrugged, satisfied with himself.

Ice, who had been looking away the whole time, cleared his throat and stretched, his long limbs filling the dark space around him. "Well, cats," he said as he walked towards the garage door. "I'm off to get a pop. Who's taggin' along?"

"Where are you gonna go to get that pop, Ice?" A-Rab asked. "We can't go to Doc's anymore…" His eyes darted over to Leroy, who was looking down at Graziela, his tongue pushing into his cheek, a slight smile upon his face.

"Really? Hm. I thought this here was a free country…" Ice opened the garage door. "But, y'know, if you guys don't wanna come with me, that's just fine." He stepped outside confidently. "I'll say hello to Noreen for you all."

Leroy did a double-take. "What? Whaddya think you're doing?" He ran over and pushed Ice back inside. "I already told ya, y'can't go back to Doc's!"

Ice swatted Leroy away like a zebra's tail swats a fly. "Who are you, the President? Nobody orders me around anymore, not even my mother. I'm my own master now."

Leroy started breathing heavily. Nobody would cross him. He was Riff now, he was the leader. They had to do what he said. They had to. He didn't want to be the annoying kid brother. He had the power now… didn't he? His eyes darted around, looking for help from someone, anyone… Then he looked back at Ice, who was coolly backing out the door, as if he had the right to go anywhere he wanted. Then Leroy got mad.

SLAM! went Ice's body up against the wall outside. WHUMP! as Leroy threw him onto the ground. Then grunts from Leroy as he smack, smack, smacked his fist into Ice's face. Then quiet. Leroy got up, still looking down at Ice's unconscious form. He wiped the sweat from off his forehead, then wiped his bloody, sweaty hands on his Levi's. He looked back at the faces of his Jets and their girls. His still-shaking hand extended towards Ice, pointing at his prone body. "That," he said, as matter-of-factly as if he was showing the neighbors his new Frigidaire, "My friends, is what happens when you cross Riff. And don't you ever forget it."


End file.
